Journal Entry 15: Killer Ants and a Tough Goodbye

This weekend was full of adventure. I visited Aburi botanical gardens, (the oldest cocoa farm in Ghana) and a wood carving village with other members from my exchange program. I must admit that I’m not really into looking at trees, but the creatures made sure the trip was more interesting. One girl from the program stepped on a little ant army, and the soldiers were NOT pleased. The ant army was coming for us.  All you could see was a bunch of people hopping up and down screaming, slapping their legs and feet and me of course trying to catch a photo (which I failed at). One girl even managed to get one of the predators down her dress, and yes it was as amusing as it sounds. I was fortunate enough to get away bite-free.

But there was also a very touching part of the trip. I expected seeing the village to have more of an impact on me, but it was actually meeting the kids I saw at the Aburi gardens that stuck with me. Me and a couple of friends saw two young boys walking around alone and asked them if they wanted to take a picture. They didn’t talk; they just smiled. After taking the photos and moving on with our journey, they followed us all around during the rest of our visit there. Whenever we made a stop to observe something, we would look back at them, and they would smile. The older one would wave and then nudge the younger one to do the same. It was almost as if he was saying to him, "Come on, you'll have to learn how to do this eventually too". My group finally stopped to have lunch in a cabin. I made eye contact with them, as they stood at the window of the cabin smiling, hoping they might have a decent meal that day. I was forced to look away, as I knew that once I gave something away, it would only lead to more begging, which I already had difficulty handling. It made me wonder how many other kids are in a similar situation. "Where are their parents?” I kept thinking to myself. As we were heading out, one of my friends gave the kids gum. “Don’t swallow it—just chew” she said. The bus pulled away as they waved goodbye—a painful goodbye for them, and for me as well. Who knows what impact we could’ve had on them, and who knows when they’ll have that interaction again. 

Journal Entry 14: It's Just Hair

My roommate and I with new hair dos.
(Her dreads were just finished)

I have been wanting to get my hair braided since I first arrived in Ghana. I knew it would make my life easier and would be a good way to start using my natural hair (as I stopped perming it last August). I finally got the chance to head to the Bush Canteen with my roommate who was kind enough to tag along. The Bush Canteen is a nice size market place on campus where you can buy supplies, music,  get your hair done, and more. Getting my hair done there was a very interesting experience, and the stylists worked a lot faster than I was used to. There were usually three people working on my head at one time, braiding and tugging, but the results were worth it and it wasn’t painful at all. As they were braiding my hair, I said to my Norwegian roommate, “You should get your dreads!”. She had been contemplating whether or not to get dreads for about five years now. She pondered for a while (as the hair dresser consistently pestered her to see whether or not she would do it). She finally called her boyfriend (whose been wanting her to get dreads as well) and the decision was made.  “After all” she said, “It’s only dead skin cells”. She continued to convince herself it was not a big deal. “It’s okay, it will grow back”. I felt very accomplished. I persuaded my roommate to make a life-altering decision that she will have to live with for a few years.
After all, it’s Ghana! Just go for it!

Journal Entry 13: What's Your Ghanaian Name?

In Ghana, middle names are often based off of the day a child is born. For instance, a boy may be named “Kwasi” because he was born on a Sunday. However, after they are baptized, they may add on a new, Christian name. If they are already born into a Christian family, they may already be born with a Christian name. I found this fascinating because it’s almost as if by being spiritually reborn, you claim a new cultural identity as well. Considering that Christian names are also European names, I wonder if this identification system also represents some sort of hierarchy amongst religions and kinds of people.  It is still difficult for me to accept because you’re pretty much signifying your rebirth and claiming that you are now on the right path by adapting the names of the people that colonized you.

I wanted to see what my middle name would be if I was born in Ghana. I went through the calendar, all the way back to July 29^th, 1990 and saw that I was born on a Sunday. This means that my middle name would be Akosua. What is your Ghanaian name?

Journal Entry 12: Ignorance is Bliss

I’ve spoken to a few Ghanaians about the similarities and differences between different groups within the black diaspora. I was explaining to a couple of them how many blacks at home are not proud of their ancestry, because the majority of what we know about Africans is taught to us by whites. Through these conversations, I noticed that many Ghanaians do notice that they are portrayed negatively to other people. They explained to me that people visit Ghana and only seem to point out the things that verify what they already believe. One friend said to me, “Tourists come here, taking pictures of the first poor begging kids they see. They don’t show all of the wonderful parts of Ghana”. I found this to be very interesting, because I know people tend to become uncomfortable when they confront a reality that challenges their preconceived beliefs.  I can go home with pictures of poor begging kids or sick people and say, “See, it’s just like what they show us on television”, but to bring back pictures of a people with a rich history and culture would require me to question everything I have been taught in my country about other people. It would cause me to question even more of my beliefs, and why would I want to do that? Another lesson learned: Ignorance is bliss. 

Journal Entry 11: Color me Red, Yellow and Green

As I was walking through the campus with a Ghanaian friend, we passed by a monkey that was tied to a tree. I’ve seen it a couple of times before and wanted to take a picture of it because it is something I’ve never seen prior to visiting Ghana. In the States, it would not be usual for an animal such as a monkey, to be tied to a tree like a dog or another domesticated animal. As I prepared to take a picture, a Ghanaian man walked by me and my friend and said “don’t do that” in an aggravated voice. “You can’t just go around taking pictures”. Considering we were outside and it looked like a public space, I didn’t really understand what he was getting at until he continued. “Are you from the U.S.?” he asked, while still walking beyond us. “Yes” I said in a stoical tone. “Do you do that in your country?” he asked, as if to provoke a certain response out of me. I was both confused and saddened as I stood for a minute pondering whether or not he was offended by me trying to take pictures or if he was offended by me trying to take pictures as a foreigner. Seeing the puzzled expression on my face, my Ghanaian friend then said, “You know, that never would have happened if you were Ghanaian”.  All I was missing were my red, yellow and green stripes. 

Journal Entry 10: Getting Paid to Get Laid

As I was with some of my friends and we were driving back to the hostel Sunday evening, we noticed several women standing on different corners of the street wearing very short shorts. Our Ghanaian friends in the car pointed them out to us as prostitutes. This was not the surprising part. Apparently, they charge 5-10 cedis to their customers, and a little more than that if you'd like to have unprotected sex. I couldn't believe anyone would put themselves at such a risk. Especially as the customer, you might be paying more money to get a disease. This bothered me for a while, but I realize that for many people, that life is a reality.

Journal Entry 9: Praise the Lord

One thing I learned about Ghanaians is that they get up very early. This past Sunday, I received the privilege of accompanying my Ghanaian friend to church.  She wanted to know whether I wanted to attend the 7:30 am service or the 10:00 am service, so you can guess which one I chose. Thankfully, Ghanaian time usually runs a bit late, so we wouldn't arrive at the actual time either way. I knew it would be an interesting experience for me, regardless of how it went. I was fascinated at how similar it was to the black churches in the States. When we first entered the church, a middle-aged man was speaking about unity, and how it is necessary in order for the community to grow. Another woman later on spoke about the hope for the community through the youth. I felt as though I had been in any other church in Roxbury (Ma), listening to the older generation of black folks talk about how we have to do what’s best for our people.

Even the music was like back home. The only thing that really stood out was their Ghanaian clothing. I wasn’t fully aware that I was in a Ghanaian church until the choir began to sing Ghanaian songs during the offering, and of course the fact that the service lasted very long.

One man asked all of the visitors to stand. He told us to stay after the service and that he would have a special gift for us. When I stayed I was given a form to fill out concerning where I was from and my religious beliefs. There was a checklist to see where I was in my life spiritually. I immediately noticed that there was no option on the form for non-believers. They had options such as, “I’m dedicating my life to Jesus”, “I have been baptized”,  “I want to be baptized”, etc. but nothing that allowed you to say "I'm practicing another religion" or "I'm just visiting". There was simply a box in another section of the form that said "I do not wish to be a member". This automatically caught my attention because it made me question how tolerant Ghanaians are to various religious beliefs (something I'd like to explore further).

 I learned a lot from this one service. I learned that there is such a thing as black unity. As I explained how similar the church was to the black churches at home, my Ghanaian friend said to me, "black people are the same everywhere". 

Journal Entry 8: The Power of Dance

I attended a dance workshop with my program today where I learned some traditional Ghanaian dance moves. Before teaching us some traditional Ghanaian dances, the instructor gave us more background information on the power of dance for Ghanaians. He said, “We use a traditional dance to celebrate our ancestors and to allow them to live again. We also dance in circles often to represent the circle of life. We use this dance to transcend each generation. Our dances represent everything we value: our family, our ancestors, and our community. In Ghana, it is about the whole community, ‘My pain is your pain’". This was the best experience I had had yet. Looking at the similarities between traditional African dance and the afro dancing done at home, I noticed that as expected, many of the movements are similar, but don’t necessarily share the same sexual connotations that descendants of slaves have added on to it. Not only was I able to discover how dancing done in the Caribbean and by African-Americans came from this dancing, but I felt like I had entered another world. I felt like I joined a team. The movements we did were based on real life activities. We went fishing, hunting, and did the circle dances that allowed us to be physically and emotionally connected. We moved in a circle, repeating the chorus and doing different moves. "Se nwa de den de se nwa...Se nwa de den de se nwa". Unlike when I dance in the States, I didn’t worry about if anyone was judging me. I didn’t care if my hips were moving correctly or how I looked. Because I was able to remove the superficial aspect of dance, I was able to dance with more passion. I finally saw dance for what it is; a release. 

Journal Entry 7: "Afro-Talk"

One evening, I had a conversation with a German friend who was also studying at the University. He’s your typical white blonde hair-blue eyed male with a humorous personality. One thing I now appreciate about this trip is the fact that not only am I learning about issues of identity from Ghanaians, but I gain insight on how I am perceived by other international students as well. As I was talking to him, he said with an excited voice, “Oh, you speak that Afro talk!”. My first instinct was to crack up laughing, because I wasn’t sure how to respond. White people in the United States usually wouldn’t say things like that to your face, but of course I learned that Europeans are very different and often more open and forward. I replied, “What do you mean, ‘Afro talk’?” He attempted to imitate me, making hand gestures like a rapper and doing a stereotypical sha-na-na voice (but very poorly). I was shocked at what I was hearing, but knew that he also hadn’t been exposed to many people of the black diaspora. This was especially evident in his next comment, “You know it’s funny, the blacks in the U.S. talk differently than the ones here” referring to Ghana. I thought that would have been obvious, if you understood the history of the black diaspora. He asked me where I was from. “Boston”, I replied. “What about your parents?” he continued. “They are from Boston”.  “So…are you from here, Ghana?”. “I don’t know, possibly” I replied with a smile. He looked a little a puzzled. How is it I could not know where I am from? “I’m African-American” I explained. “My ancestors were slaves—so that knowledge has been taken from me”. “Ohhh okay I get it” he quickly replied, and changed the subject.

We (along with another European friend) then began talking about Americans. It was so interesting hearing about how people from other countries view Americans. As I expected, nothing positive was really said. “They are selfish and arrogant. They think they know everything.” Of course there were other stereotypes that I chose not to post, but you get the idea. I must admit that I didn’t totally disagree with some of these ideas, but I also realized that even if I am none of these things, people from other countries might automatically think so and respond to me accordingly. 

Journal Entry 6: Obroni

I had asked many questions about identity prior to arriving in Ghana. I had heard that I would be considered a white person. Some said it is because of my complexion, and others said it is because I am American. I was finally called Obroni (white person) today. I was walking down the main street of the campus with my Nigerian friend from the program and we were discussing issues of the black race in terms of self-hatred and our perceptions of one another. This conversation was brought about specifically because earlier in the day, a Ghanaian man introduced himself to me and my white friend, but ignored my Nigerian friend as if he was not important. As we were discussing issues of skin color (light vs. dark), a woman I’ve encountered twice before, came up to me trying to sell some of the food she was carrying. “Ayy obroni, hi obroni” she called to me, grabbing my hand and trying to convince me of how delicious her food was. “No” I said. “Not Obroni, I am your sister.” I replied grabbing her hand in a friendly gesture. “Ohhh no Obroni?? Bibini (black person)?? I like your skin color. You trade your skin color with me and give it to me”. “No no but I like YOUR skin color”, I insisted. “Good then you trade it with me”. “But your skin is beautiful”, I said "and I love it”.  I recognized the same mentality of self-abhorrence that was present in African-Americans, and even though I knew it was there, it was very disappointing to confront. Even in a black country where everyone may look like you, your own dark skin remains inferior.

Journal Entry 5: Growing Pains: A lack of internet

I wanted to let everyone back at home know that I was okay and tell them all of the interesting things I had been seeing, except I had no internet. I have to pay for internet either hourly or for the entire semester, and even then it isn’t always reliable. However, I took that as a positive part of my trip, because I had become so invested in my cyber life before that I don’t always take the time to notice what’s right in front of me. I didn’t want to miss a second of all that Ghana had to teach me, and the internet definitely wasn’t going to help. This was the first part of my growing process in Ghana: learning my own values. It allowed me to see that much of what I have at home is superficial and disconnects me from who I am and who I have the potential to be. 

Journal Entry 4: Ease on Down the Road

After being in Ghana a couple of days, I learned that it isn’t a good idea to wear nice shoes. The roads can be pretty dusty and muddy, and the drains are open in the street.  This means potential to trip and fall, and get dust/mud all over your shoes. When there isn’t a sufficient supply of water, it’s twice as bad to get dirty.

Journal Entry 3: T.I.G.

Today was a very interesting day. I woke up, hopped out of my mosquito net (which I eventually called my princess castle) to discover that there was no running water. This means no shower, no brushing my teeth, and clogged up toilets. I had to wash with wipes and eventually learned to survive with my bottled water.  I was overwhelmed at first, because I really had to go to the bathroom (and I don’t mean peeing), but the toilets were already filled with wastes, and I had no toilet paper. (Often times you need to bring your own toilet paper to the bathroom, including sometimes in public places).  Of course you have to do what you have to do, and thankfully my roommate let me use her toilet paper. She came up with a saying that we use to remind ourselves that we are not home. “T.I.G.=This is Ghana”.

  **First learning experience in Ghana: Never take anything for granted. 

Journal Entry 2: Arriving on Campus

As we toured the campus, I noticed that it was HUGE and that many of the buildings had the same structure. By the time I got off of the bus, I was focused on getting all of my luggage through the rain (and some mud) and into the hostel.  It was quite a challenge considering the pooring rain, the path of bricks that wasn’t quite finished, and the amount of luggage I had to carry in one trip.

After settling in for a couple of hours, I looked on my back porch (where I can see the night market), and saw goats walking around in the area left of the market. I was reminded that I was in Africa; and I loved it.

Check out the goats behind me!

Journal Entry 1: Arriving in Ghana

When I first got off of the plane and entered the country closest to the center of the earth, my first  thought was; “Gee, it isn’t as hot as people say it is”. Little did I know that the weather I had experienced was cold in comparison to what was to come. The mentors from my program met me at the airport to take me to the hotel I was going to be staying at for a few days. One mentor took her arm and wrapped it around my shoulder, as if she had known me my whole life. Even though it was a small gesture, it stood out to me because it gave me a sense of how caring and friendly Ghanaians are.

On the way to the hotel, I noticed all of the people selling stuff on the street. Many of them carried their items on their head, which I had found fascinating even though I had seen it in pictures. When we got to the hotel, we sat down to have lunch. I knew the food would be a challenge for me, considering I’m used to eating the same things over and over again.  After a while I was able to find what I liked, but I did initially have trouble eating because there wasn’t as much room to explore my options. Thankfully, that was only a small portion of my trip.

I automatically noticed the warm welcome I received from not only the mentors in my program, but Ghanaians in general.  They always smiled and greeted me. I got the impression that they are a hospitable people that care about others just as much, if not more than themselves. 

Knowing this led me to the conclusion that I was going to learn a lot during my time here.